The Gamble
by Skeasel
Summary: Shepard engages in a battle of wills and pays the price when she misjudges her opponent.  Rated M for language and other bits.  Now with smut.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Bioware owns all but my Shepard.

A/N: This was originally intended as a silly one-shot, but it grew into something a little larger. Any thoughts/constructive feedback is appreciated and keeps me motivated.

The Gamble

The commander looked across at her opponent. That the woman was determined and brilliant she had no doubt, but could she bluff? Shepard looked down and took stock of her resources. She had been successful in controlling her opposition, employing tactics that would have been questionable at best, but was it going to be enough? Clearly, the woman in front of her wondered that as well.

"I'm all in." Shepard felt confident that she held a winning hand. After all, she had bullied and bluffed everyone but Garrus and Miranda out of the game. Now, with just the three of them left, and Garrus almost out of chips, Shepard knew the end was near.

Garrus snorted and threw his cards down on the table in resignation. "Too rich for my blood."

Miranda took a more measured pace, and looked pointedly at Shepard. "You think you can fool me like you did Tali?"

"Hey, I've never played before," Tali intoned, her voice slightly modified by her enviro-suit. "How was I supposed to know I could lie?"

"The technical term is bluffing," Dr. Chakwas chimed in, sipping liberally from her glass of brandy.

"Yeah," Garrus added, "and with that mask on, you don't even have to worry about keeping a poker face for hours on end."

Tali appeared irritated as she sat back in her chair, arms crossed. "If I didn't know better, Miss Tali, I'd say you are frowning," Dr. Chakwas joked as she emptied the rest of her brandy into her glass.

Shepard smiled inwardly at her crew's banter and returned Miranda's look with the best poker face she could muster. "Are you in or out?"

"Miranda looked down at her dwindling pile of chips. "I don't have enough to match you." She tapped her finger against her lips in thought. "What about a side bet to really make it interesting?"

Shepard contemplated the idea for a moment. Miranda must really be desperate to risk losing as competitive as she was known to be. "What are your thoughts?"

"I recently gained access to experimental Alliance military technology just before we hit the Collector base, specifically, a sniper rifle upgrade that would suit your Widow with a bit of modification. It increases damage only slightly, but decreases the recoil so you won't be running around with a bruised shoulder after every use."

Shepard found herself secretly marveling at Miranda's ability to get impossible information and technology. Her contacts would indeed come in handy in the near future. Shepard found herself seriously considering Miranda's offer, but decided against it. "No deal. If you have access to tech that could increase our chances of survival, you'll give it to me anyway."

"Hey!" Garrus sat forward. "I want my rifle upgraded too. Do you have access to anything that might increase my ammo capacity?"

Miranda shrugged slender shoulders. "I think we may be able to arrange that, although it might be more difficulty since Shepard here pissed off the Illusive Man."

Garrus sat back again, relieved that his importance as a sniper had not been forgotten, even though his ego had been damaged slightly during game play. He looked over to Shepard. "What do you want her to bet?"

Shepard looked thoughtful for a moment, as if she contemplated the safety of the galaxy yet again. What she really wanted was for someone to feed her fish, but the commander was nothing if not paranoid regarding the privacy of her cabin. A smile spread across her tanned face as she recognized a sort of compromise of her desires. "Can you develop a program for EDI to feed my fish daily and clean the tank?"

Miranda laughed out loud at the simplicity of Shepard's request. It would be easy enough to meet her demands. "Oh yes. Is that all you want?"

The commander started to regret her sudden request, thinking that she should have come up with something more complicated. Her needs and wants, however, were simple. "No," she responded simply. "Not that I can think of."

Miranda nodded in understanding. "Okay, but if I win, you're going out with us on our next shore leave."

"I was planning on it anyway," Shepard stated, only mildly surprised at this request.

Miranda held up her hand to forestall anything further from the commander. "I'm not done. You're going out with us to a destination that I pick, in an outfit of my choosing."

Shepard leaned back and took a deep breath, dampening her sudden sense of alarm. She saw the three other players lean forward as the turn in conversation had piqued their interest. Miranda's normally serious face held a glint of mirth on it. "Oh no, not with your sense of fashion. You'll have me in some revealing get-up that leaves me bouncing in wind at the slightest breeze. You've got to do better than that."

"Oh come on, Commander," Garrus bared his teeth in a huge grin as Tali giggled beside him. "I've heard quite a few comments from the crew on how much they like Miranda's uniform." Shepard rolled her eyes while Miranda cuffed him playfully on the shoulder. Garrus winced in an exaggerated fashion, and then reached for the red nuts in Tali's bowl. "I think you could easily pull that off."

"Really, Commander. You have to know that I would never knowingly put you in a position, or outfit, that would undermine your authority." Miranda's attempt to hide a smile was slowly failing.

Shepard took another deep breath. "Okay, but I want more than just an automated fish tank cleaner, feeder, babysitter." She threw up her hands in mild annoyance. "Whatever you want to call that program."

Dr. Chakwas sat forward with interest, a drunken grin plastered across her face while Garrus and Tali devoured the red nuts. Miranda nodded. "Agreed. What else do you want?"

In truth, Shepard had no idea what she wanted. Everything she needed she readily had at her disposal, and anything else, she simply ordered to crew to get. Never had the commander desired anything personal that didn't correspond with the demands of the mission. Now, as it stood, their mission was on hold since their return from the galactic core; a sort of limbo as they waited for their contacts in the Alliance and on the Citadel to respond to their inquiries.

"I want some new casual outfits – loose and functional casual outfits that don't have the Cerberus logo on them. I'll be the one to pick those out so you won't have to. Also, I want a new holster for my cannon that I can wear while I'm off duty, and sits just below my right hip. The one Cerberus gave me sits too high and I have to keep adjusting it when we go planet-side."

Miranda nodded slowly, taking stock of Shepard's requests. Again, they seemed simple and easily achieved. "You sure are an easy woman to pl-"

Shepard held up her hand to silence the brunette just as Miranda had done to her earlier. "I'm not done. She cleared her throat and checked off her requests counting on her fingers, mumbling something intelligible under her breath. "I also want a pair of leather boots. Real leather, not that fake synthesized crap that they try pawn off on imbeciles, but real honest to god leather."

Miranda started to protest, but the commander held up her hand once more. "I'm still not done. You will also find me the means to acquire a steak – a real steak cut from a real cow. Not some colonial inbred alien offshoot, but actual, earth-born, tasty cow."

"Maybe you could eat the cow and use the leftovers for the boots," the doctor said louder than she meant to. Garrus snorted, failing to stifle a laugh while Tali looked between Miranda and Shepard, a look of confusion on her face if anyone were able to see under her mask.

Miranda thought for a moment, and then slowly nodded her head in acquiescence. This was something she could do, surprised only slightly by Shepard's additional requests. "Is that all?"

"Yes." The commander paused for a moment considering her options. "I also want real mashed potatoes with my steak dinner, not fake powdered substitute. With real butter."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "You sure don't count your calories, do you." It was more of a statement than a question.

Shepard ignored the verbal jab. "Is it a deal then? I agree to the destination of your choice once we're in orbit, and an outfit of your choosing, and I get my real food and decent outfits? Oh, and that new program so my fish live longer?"

Miranda nodded once more, counting her chips. "Yes." Miranda looked at the three other players, their rapt attention on the negotiation in their midst. "You all are witness to these terms. Any objections?" All three shook their heads, Dr. Chakwas wobbling slightly in her seat. "Then we have an accord."

"Very well." Shepard took a deep breath of satisfaction and firmly placed her cards down on the table. "Full house, Aces over Queens," she stated triumphantly.

Miranda stared blankly at Shepard's cards, a brief look of disappointment flitted over her face. Almost reluctantly Miranda set her cards face up on the table. A sly smile spread ever so slowly across her face, as she watched realization spread across Shepard's.

The thick silence was interrupted by Garrus' bark of laughter as he slapped his leg in glee. Dr. Chakwas smiled in humor as she downed the last of her brandy, and Tali continued to look back and forth from Shepard to Miranda in confusion.

"Ah, shit," the commander cursed loudly as her inner voice silently berated her.

"A straight flush."


	2. Getting Ready

Disclaimer: Bioware owns all, but Shepard is all mine – sort of.

A/N: It's girly and silly, and I found Kelly really annoying in-game, so I tried to bring that out in this chapter. As always, feel free to post your thoughts.

Chapter 2: Getting Ready

The pounding on the door intensified the more Shepard ignored it. It seemed inevitable that Miranda would win at all costs, even if it included taking away the commander's dignity as well. Shepard sighed and resigned herself to the horror that awaited her. She pushed the button on the wall and the bathroom door slid open with a hiss.

"It's about damn time you came out of there!" Miranda stepped aside to let Shepard pass down the steps and into her living quarters. "I didn't think anything could ever make you so squeamish."

Shepard shot Miranda an annoyed look, but Miranda ignored it as the door chime sounded. Making herself at home, the indomitable operative moved with a purpose and opened the door to let Kelly in. The young, perky yeoman breezed into the commander's cabin, her excited chatter filling the room and grating on Shepard's nerves. She shifted uncomfortably as the two women debated on which clothing style suited the commander's body type and which hairstyle would look best with it. At one point, Kelly attempted to include Shepard in the conversation, but the commander just stared at her as if Kelly had suddenly grown a third eye.

Miranda and Kelly finally decided on three different outfits that had been purchased previously at some point in their journeys. Both women debated the pros and cons of each outfit, the incessant babbling causing Shepard to lie down before her head exploded. How hard was it to pick out clothing? Really?

"Here, try this one on." Miranda thrust a garment toward the commander, and Shepard failed in her attempt to feign sleep.

"It won't fit." Shepard hoped the simple statement would suffice.

"Of course it will. It fits me and we're the same size." Shepard frowned at Miranda. "Well I did spend two years rebuilding your body. Of course I know your size."

Shepard sat up on the bed and examined the garment Miranda and Kelly had picked out. Surprisingly, it wasn't revealing at all, and covered her entire body save for her head, neck, and hands. Miranda also gestured to a pair of boots, new black, leather boots that would complete the ensemble. Reluctantly, Shepard stripped and attempted to get into Miranda's outfit.

"How is this thing supposed to go on?"

"They're pants, Shepard," Miranda stated irritably while Kelly snickered in the background. "How do you usually put pants on?"

Shepard huffed in annoyance and pulled the tight fitting leggings up, then tackled the top. She struggled briefly with the snug fabric before finally yanking it down to cover her abdomen. Miranda handed her the final piece of the outfit, and Shepard looked at her inquisitively.

"It's a ribbed top, kind of like a corset. It's very popular on Illium." Miranda smiled again as Kelly attempted to be helpful. Shepard just arched an eyebrow and yanked the corset from Miranda's outstretched hand. Miranda moved behind her to help Shepard adjust the garment more to her level of comfort, but Shepard continued to shift and fidget.

"Stop moving," Miranda ordered.

"It's too tight," Shepard grumbled.

"It's supposed to be."

"I read that these new corset-things are supposed to be very supportive. New studies show that posture is significantly improved and the ribbing helps with lift." Kelly looked innocently at Shepard as the commander glared daggers at the young woman. "The fabric is a high performance synthetic cloth, similar to rubber or latex clothing that was popular back in the mid-21st. Only I think this stuff is supposed to be more breathable."

Miranda tried to hide a smile as Shepard shifted again. "You're putting me in a rubber body suit?"

"It's not rubber, silly." Kelly shrugged her shoulders. "I can't pronounce the name of it. Some sort of Asari thing or another."

Shepard frowned as Miranda continued to adjust the corset, jerking her from side to side. The door chimed again and Kelly squealed in delight as Tali and Dr. Chakwas entered the room. Tali immediately went to Shepard's side and appraised her outfit with a critical eye while Dr. Chakwas poured the commander a drink. Chakwas had seen that same sort of look in newly caged animals that Shepard now wore. There was no way that the commander would leave the privacy of her cabin while still sober.

Shepard reached impatiently for the drink that the doctor supplied, ignoring the burn in her throat, but enjoying the warmth now permeating her belly. She gestured for another, which Chakwas gave, only stopping to serve Miranda and Kelly their drinks as well. Tali had brought her own beverage, a sort of green ooze, which she hooked up to her suit. The environment in the cabin had gone from one of tense irritation, to mild anticipation.

"I must say, Commander, black suits you." Dr. Chakwas looked appraisingly at Shepard and took a seat on the couch. While the doctor had seen Shepard in her black armor, this outfit was definitely a first. Of course, the commander rarely wore anything that wasn't military issued. In fact, Chakwas had never seen Shepard out of uniform aside from medical necessity.

"The color and the boots are the only thing I approve of." Shepard downed her drink and handed the glass to Dr. Chakwas for a refill. Miranda jerked the corset once more and informed Shepard that the fit was now perfect. The commander moved awkwardly, experimenting with the feel of the clothing. It was flexible yet supportive and it was breathable. Despite the snug fit, Shepard had good range of motion and was fairly comfortable. _Maybe I should slow down my drinking_, she thought.

"Here." Miranda pointed to the desk chair. "Sit. We need to do something about your hair."

Shepard touched the back of her head where she usually piled her messy hair into something resembling a knotted bun. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"There are so many ways I could answer that, but you're just going to have to trust me." Miranda ushered Shepard into the chair and swiveled it around so that she was behind her. Roughly, Miranda undid the rat's nest that was her commander's hair, and proceeded to brush it vigorously. Shepard stifled a groan, as Kelly fluttered over and started a discussion on makeup. The commander looked briefly over at Tali and Dr. Chakwas who were chatting on the couch before Miranda roughly pulled her head so that she was facing straight ahead again. Shepard suddenly longed for the ability to inject liquor into her veins as the quarian seemed able to do.

"There." Miranda stopped brushing and admired her handiwork. Shepard's hair was now tangle-free.

"That's it?" Shepard rand a hand through her locks and looked at Miranda suspiciously.

"No, now we curl it."

Kelly squealed again and started debating the benefits of a flat iron versus a curling iron. In the end, Shepard submitted to a straightened simplistic hairstyle with soft waves framing her face. The process was almost more than she could handle, and Shepard inwardly reminded herself to thank Dr. Chakwas for the bottles of liquor that she had brought. Where that woman got her alcohol was a mystery to Shepard, but she was thankful for it nonetheless. The liquid courage would come in handy tonight.


	3. Walking the Plank

Disclaimer: Bioware owns almost all.

A/N: This one is a bit short, but I'm not a fan of filler. This was an unplanned chapter as well, but I really wanted that scene with Garrus and Joker.

Chapter 3: Walking the Plank

Shepard curled her fingers around the glass that Dr. Chakwas handed her and tilted her head back, draining the last of her drink. The liquid didn't burn her throat so much anymore, and a soft warmth suffused her body. She was really going to have to replace that bottle, seeing how she drank most of it. The doctor smiled softly at her in understanding. Shepard stood up from the couch, still steady on her feet thanks in part to the many upgrades she had been given throughout the past few months. Well, if she was going to do this, she had better get started.

Miranda looked up from her conversation with Tali and recognized the determined look on her commander's face. It was time to head out. She motioned to Kelly and the small group of women made their way to the elevator. Miranda and Kelly had both taken the time, while Shepard drank her liquid courage, to ready themselves for the girls' night out. Miranda was sporting her usual tight clothing, but in a dark red with white piping. Kelly had opted for something a bit more complex, a slinky black dress and high heels, on her head a mass of curls. Even Dr. Chakwas was dressed for a night out in a dark blue uniform, similar to those she usually wore, but without the Cerberus logo.

"Are you ready for this, Commander?" Miranda asked as they entered the elevator to the command deck. Shepard gave her a look that said _I hate you_, but the brightness of her eyes and flush in her face said otherwise. Facing her crew was going to be excruciating. She found herself resenting Miranda more and more and was extremely upset with herself for losing the bet in the first place. Shepard groaned inwardly in frustration, and stepped on to the CIC.

Shepard looked around her command deck and all chatter stopped. _Oh shit_. Shepard inhaled deeply, steadying herself. She was Commander Shepard, not some pimped out floozy in a rubber body-suit. Her crew _will_ maintain their discipline and respect her authority even if she were to run around the CIC naked with a plastic cone on her head and clown shoes on her feet.

Shepard drew herself up to her full height, made all the taller by her new boots, and stalked purposefully through the command deck, cutting through the stunned silence. She made a bee-line for the cockpit, where Joker and Garrus waited. Both men were shocked into silence as the commander approached, each with a very different look on their faces: Garrus with a bright twinkle of humor in his eye, an enormous grin on his face, and Joker with his jaw dropped open. His chair swiveled ever so awkwardly.

"Status report." Shepard did her best to ignore the stares that she knew the outfit was getting her, and tried her best to maintain her authoritative composure.

"Err, yes." Garrus stuttered only slightly as he handed her the data pad. She nodded, briefly scanning the short report and gave it back to Garrus.

"I want the crew to double check the patches to the outer hull, make sure they're intact, and conduct a scan of all the repairs completed by the Illium team. I trust Liara, but I don't have to trust her contacts." Miranda touched Shepard lightly on the shoulder gaining her attention and handed her a new holster. Shepard strapped it to her right leg, adjusting the new leather fittings to her liking. The commander relished the familiarity of the gun's weight on her hip, feeling more like herself than she had in the past few hours.

"Of course, Commander." Garrus made note of the new instructions, punching them into the pad. "Anything else, Commander?"

Shepard thought for a moment. Nothing seemed amiss on her ship, except for the fact that she was out of uniform. "No, Garrus. That will be all. The ship is yours. She better be here when I get back."

"Per your orders, Commander." The large grin on Garrus' face grew wider as a mischievous glint brightened his eyes. "I must say, Shepard, you're looking particularly…." His mandibles twitched as he tried to think up a suitable description.

Shepard's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a sign that she was not in the least bit please. "Garrus?"

"Yes, Commander?"

"I'm armed."

"Yes, Commander."

Shepard looked him in the eye a moment longer and then exited the ship through the airlock, the small group of chattering women trailing in her wake. Garrus shook his head and looked over at Joker, and smiled. His mouth was still wide open in surprise.

"Shut your mouth, you're starting to drool."

Joker snapped his mouth closed with a click and looked to Garrus. "_That_ was Shepard?"


	4. Anonymity

Disclaimer: Bioware owns all.

A/N: A little bit more of a serious tone, and more descriptive, but I wanted to share my idea of this club that I cooked up. As always, please read and review.

Chapter 4: Anonymity

_What the hell am I doing_? Shepard hurried through the lighted walkways on Illium, attempting to hide from the attention that her outfit was drawing. Of course, the stares that she was getting could also be due to the group of women accompanying her, chatting and laughing obnoxiously loud. Shepard idly wondered how many of Dr. Chakwas' bottles of liquor they drank in such a short amount of time.

The commander briskly turned a corner as Miranda caught up to her. "Here, you'll need this." The former Cerberus operative handed her an engraved chit, and passed more out to the rest of the group.

Shepard looked at her curiously. "What's this for?" She arched a slender eyebrow. "Should I be worried?"

Miranda gave her a half smile. She was used to Shepard's suspicion, but tonight it was bordering on neurotic. "You'll need it to get into The Mask."

"The Mask? You're kidding me."

Shepard rolled her eyes as she heard Kelly squeal in delight. "Oh, we're going to The Mask? I've heard it's so much fun!" Kelly turned to Dr. Chakwas and Tali, her body aglow with excitement. "It's one of the newer clubs, with tiered dance platforms and swanky VIP seating. I heard they even filmed a vid there!"

Shepard heard herself sigh. While she couldn't fault the woman for her excitement and energy, Shepard found that she would need to drink more in order to keep from knocking Kelly senseless tonight. She was far too chipper not to be on something other than alcohol. Given that they were on Illium, it was highly likely.

Miranda gave her a sly smile. "I think you might like it, Commander. After all, nobody will recognize you."

Shepard sighed in resignation. "You have more surprises in store?"

Miranda nodded in return as the group continued forward. "You'll see."

The question on Shepard's tongue was answered as the group of women continued forward around the bend. A long line had formed outside an alcove lit by a garish purple glow, which made it difficult to discern one individual from another. The burly bouncers at the door, stoic and discriminating, guarded the entrance. One of the bouncers, a heavily muscled human, turned his attention their way, his eyes lingering on Miranda. She tossed him her chit nonchalantly and strolled into the club as if she owned it. The rest of their group followed suit, bypassing the grumbles that arose in the crowded line.

They entered a spacious hallway lined with Asari dancers on either side and yet more bouncers, standing silent in the flickering shadows. "Here," Miranda gestured to the display cases that ran the length of the hall. "Pick one out." A scantily clad Asari stood attendant behind the cases, which were filled with all manner of decorative masks.

"Well, that answers one question." Shepard perused the displays until she found masks suitable for humans, and picked out a simple, yet delicate, black domino mask. Miranda also chose a black domino mask but trimmed in white tufts of fur. Dr. Chakwas found a white mask suitable to her tastes, and Kelly chose a gaudy gold and pink eyesore that was programmed to discharge colorful bubbles at random. The Asari attendant handed Tali a rather eccentric mask, and Tali looked at her with what Shepard swore was irritation. She found herself smiling inadvertently at the situation.

"Dare I say you might be starting to let yourself have a bit of fun?" Miranda asked, donning her mask.

"I think it may be too early to tell, and I'm still mostly sober." Shepard fiddled with her own mask until she had it adjusted to her liking. "Now I know why you chose this place."

A trickle of laughter fell from Miranda's red lips. "I have no intention of getting shot at tonight because you killed such-and-such's boss, or brother, or whatever. And besides," she stated in an eerily sweet voice, "everything's more fun if nobody knows just who you really are."

"You have a point, Miranda." Shepard couldn't help but agree with her logic. Perhaps tonight might actually be entertaining after all.

"C'mon guys! What are you standing around for? The party's this way!" Kelly linked her arms with Shepard and Miranda and practically dragged them down the hallway into the club proper.

Shepard felt the bass of the music pulse within her body long before she actually heard it. Upon entering The Mask, the commander was overcome with a sense of awe and something akin to nostalgia. Although Shepard hated to admit it, Kelly had been right. The club was amazing. The main floor was dominated by an enormous oval-shaped bar, lit from within by a fluid iridescence, and decorated from above with a smattering of dancers dangling from colorful silk-like ropes attached to the high ceiling. The bartenders, all wearing masks as well, scurried to and fro in haste to satisfy the many customers. Dancers, human, Asari, and even Salarian, were sprinkled throughout the club, also wearing masks and dressed not in the usual skin-tight dancer's apparel, but in flowing, almost ethereal costumes. Against the far wall was a large dance floor, lined by pulsating ribbons of light, which branched out into smaller, tiered dance platforms, each outlined by the same iridescence the covered the bar. Shepard found herself gazing up at the two levels that soared above them.

"Oh my, look at that!" Kelly pointed to the balconies, the colorful lights silhouetting the various patrons and dancers. "I'm told that the second floor is for VIPs, with couches, and private bars, and" she whispered conspiratorially, "private dancers. The third floor is more of a lounge-y type atmosphere, you know, for business and such."

Miranda nodded in agreement. "Liara was kind enough to procure us a table for the evening on the second floor, with our own server and easy access to the dance floors."

Shepard found herself scanning the area, gaining a familiarity of the layout, the entrances and exits. She looked behind her and saw Tali doing the same, punching up additional data in her omni-tool. Dr. Chakwas, however, was just returning from the bar, bottle in hand. She smiled at her commander, almost giddy, as if she were a child with a secret to share.

"They have Serrice Ice Brandy!"

"Oh, Doc." Shepard laughed softly as she shook her head. She turned back to Miranda and gestured subtly. "Well, shall we find our table?"

Miranda nodded, led them through the crowded main floor to a grand staircase, and into the VIP area, ignoring the lustful looks of patrons and dancers alike. Shepard rarely found herself wishing more for her combat boots and BDUs than she did at that moment. She touched her hand canon, the ever present weight a familiar comfort. Unlike Miranda, Shepard was not used to such attention and was grateful for the anonymity that her mask provided.

Kelly squealed in delight, yet again, as the group approached their private booth. It was decorated tastefully with soft lighting, the same fluid iridescence that flowed throughout the club, deep couches which Dr. Chakwas promptly sank into, and a glass table that doubled as a fish tank filled with all manner of small exotic creatures. Delicate lights dangled from the ceiling and foreign flora lined the walls, adding a touch of the outdoors. Shepard swore under her breathe as she had to admit that Kelly was right for the second time tonight. The VIP section was definitely swanky.

Miranda gave an order to the Asari server that had appeared at their booth, and then disappeared just as quickly. She sat down next to Dr. Chakwas and Tali and looked at Shepard with a question in her gaze. The commander simply nodded as she sunk into the couch next to Kelly, who was stroking the fabric, admiring its softness and mumbling something unintelligible.

"I have to say, Miranda, this is actually pretty nice."

"I agree," said Tali, "but I think I might get stuck in this couch."

"It was Liara's idea, actually, and I thought it would be safe since she has access to the security feeds."

Shepard shrugged, unsurprised at this news. She held her tongue as the Asari server returned with glasses and an assortment of liquor.

"Is there any other way I may be of service, ladies?" The server asked seductively as she set the drinks down.

Shepard looked around at the group of women. Everyone seemed intent on filling their glasses. "That will be all for now." The server nodded and disappeared into the shadows outside their private booth. Miranda passed her a drink and Shepard downed the blue liquid that had filled her glass. This was _definitely_ going to be an interesting night.


	5. Entertainment

Disclaimer: Bioware owns almost all.

A/N: I had a bit of fun on this one. Enjoy and feel free to read and review.

Chapter 5: Entertainment

Tali chatted with Dr. Chakwas quietly in their private booth and hooked up another bag of purple gelatin to her suit. Miranda and Kelly had both gone out on the dance floor and Shepard felt her earlier attempt at excitement slipping away. She withheld a sigh and walked to the railing to take in the view below, the loud music assaulting her senses as she stepped outside the dampening field.

It was a typical mass of color and commotion common in a dance club this size, but Shepard noticed that it was not filled to the brim with the usual rabble. Apparently, only so many individuals were allowed in so as not to overcrowd the area. She turned her attention to the dance floors and saw Kelly and Miranda surrounded by a group of men, mostly humans. Shepard was unsurprised. Those two seemed to attract all kinds of attention wherever they went.

The commander had just resumed her visual scanning when Miranda approached her, and leaned against the railing as well. "You're not letting yourself have any fun."

Shepard shrugged her shoulders and eyed the group of men now surrounding Kelly. She seemed to be quite enjoying herself now that the attention was aimed solely at her. Miranda followed Shepard's gaze. "You should come and join us."

"The look like Alliance."

Miranda frowned. "Even if they are, they won't recognize you, if that's what you're wondering. Besides," she adjusted her mask slightly, "I have a feeling they'll be buying our drinks soon enough."

"I'm not worried about being recognized." Shepard pictured her reflection in the mirror before she left. "I'm so far from 'Commander Shepard' to worry about that. I guess it's just been a while since I was able to relax."

Miranda nodded in understanding. "That's easy to see, Shepard. You're wound so tight, I'm guessing you couldn't even dance and have fun if you wanted to, much less get one of those guys to buy you a drink." She patted Shepard lightly on the back. "You just leave it to Kelly and me so you won't have to spend all your credits."

"Stop patronizing me."

"No, Shepard. I'm baiting you. There's a difference." Miranda looked to the dance floor then back to Shepard and shrugged. "But if you think you're not up to the challenge, well, there's nothing I can do about that."

The commander eyed her first officer. There was no way she was going to lose another bet to Miranda, but it had been too long since she'd even stepped onto a dance floor, or used her feminine charms to manipulate men into doing her bidding. Lately, it had just been easier to point a gun at them and enjoy the speedy results.

She did have her pride, however, and Shepard nodded as she made her decision. "Alright. What are the terms?"

"See who gets a free drink first. Winner gets to pick out your new causal outfits."

"No deal. There's no risk in it for you."

"Okay," Miranda thought for a moment. "Loser cleans out Zaeed's quarters."

"You are an evil woman," Shepard stated as Miranda nodded in agreement. "Alright, but first I've got to get at least a little bit drunk."

"That way you have an excuse for losing?"

Shepard eyed Miranda again. "I won't lose." The commander intended to put her outfit to good use, and maybe even the gun on her hip if need be.

The two women walked back through the dampening field and into the booth. Dr. Chakwas grinned drunkenly and Tali giggled and waved hello as they entered. Miranda ordered something from the server who had suddenly appeared and just as quickly reappeared with their beverages. Miranda handed Shepard a large drink that looked like some sort of bubbling red ooze. The commander gave her a quizzical look.

"It's called Liquid Satan," she explained as Shepard examined the glass. "That's the rough translation. Basically, it's synthesized ryncol modified for human consumption, but –"

Shepard tossed back her head and downed the drink.

"You're supposed to sip it, not shoot it. It can still cause severe abdominal discomfort and other, uh, unpleasantness."

The commander put her drink down on the table and looked back up to Miranda. "Thanks for that. Doc?" Shepard leaned over to get the doctor's attention. "Do you have anything to prevent abdominal discomfort? Miranda's trying her hardest to win our bet."

"Yes, of course." Dr. Chakwas nodded and started rummaging through her side pockets, set a pill bottle down on the table, and continued to rummage. "You mean to say that you made another bet with Miranda?"

"I mean to say." Shepard grabbed the bottle and quickly popped two pills. The doctor pulled another small bottle out of her pocket and handed it to her. "Doc, what are those for?"

Dr. Chakwas looked at the label and tried to hand it over to Shepard again. "This is what you asked for, the pills for stomach upset."

Shepard looked back at the bottle on the table. "Then what did I just take?"

The doctor grabbed Shepard's pill bottle and examined it. "These are Joker's pain pills. How many did you take?"

_Oh shit!_ "Just two."

Chakwas looked over at Miranda who appeared to be trying to hide a smile and failing, and then back to Shepard. "Well, with your metabolism you should be alright. Any effects you may feel shouldn't last too long, although you're not supposed to mix it with alcohol. Just stick to drinking water for a while." She slid a fluted glass over to Shepard. "Just let me know if you start to feel any discomfort."

Shepard nodded and sipped on her water. Dr. Chakwas resumed her discussion with Tali and Miranda joined in, occasionally glancing over at her commander. Kelly was apparently still out dancing in the sea of men and Shepard found herself attempting to remember when it was that she last cut loose. She knew it had been before she was assigned to the SR1, a brief shore leave right before her last posting. A bar, frequented by Alliance marines, but the name escaped her. It had been almost three years ago now, and while Shepard could clearly recall the seedy tavern surroundings and equally shady patrons, it irked her that she couldn't recall where in the galaxy it had been.

_Perhaps I killed those brain cells_.

Shepard sighed in irritation and instead gazed at her glass, studying the contents within. It looked like water, but reflected the iridescence off the ceiling and dance floors, creating a maelstrom of color. It was a rather hypnotizing sight, and the commander turned the glass around in her hands, watching the light shift seemingly from within.

"Shepard. Shepard?"

The commander turned her attention to Miranda who appeared to have a rather curious look on her face.

"Hunh?"

Miranda frowned, ever so slowly, and Shepard noticed that she had a slight luminous aura about her, which undulated in soft waves. "Are you alright?" Miranda's voice seemed to echo from far away.

"Yup."

Shepard felt a pull on her shoulder and turned to her left to find an inebriated Dr. Chakwas attempting to examine her eyes. "Commander? How do you feel?" She noticed the doctor also had a soft aura of light surrounding her body.

Shepard set her water down to contemplate this deep philosophical question. The answer floated into her mind as if blown by a gentle breeze. "I feel like a pillow."


	6. Dancing

Disclaimer: Bioware owns all.

A/N: This chapter's dedicated to t3HPrO because of an unfortunate incident involving a keyboard and coffee mug. I almost doubled the length per your request. As for the rest of you lovely readers, if there's anything you like, don't like, or want to see, please let me know. I think after this chapter, Shepard's up for anything. Feedback is welcome and very much appreciated.

Chapter 6: Dancing

Shepard smiled stupidly as she contemplated the group of women before her. They were doubled over with laughter at her rather inane answer: _I feel like a pillow_. It seemed to make sense to the commander, after all she did feel soft and fluffy, and a bed might just be the best place for her right now. Shepard decided to contemplate the theory on the benefits of soft-and-fluffiness while drunk. Certainly as a pillow she would bring comfort to others and make a colorful accessory for either couch or bunk. Of course, getting fluffed would have its drawbacks.

"Shepard?" Miranda had stopped laughing and was doing her best to gain the commander's attention while keeping a straight face.

Shepard looked innocently up at Miranda and smiled brilliantly. "Yes?"

Miranda chuckled and offered her hand. "Let's get you on the dance floor."

The alarm bells that would have normally gone off in Shepard's head were now the equivalent of a dull thud thanks to a drug induced stupor. Had she been sober, the commander would have remembered that inebriation leads to a complete lack of inhibition on her part, and coupled with the pain killers that she had accidentally taken earlier, may cause quite a scene. Shepard, however, was in no state of mind to process such thoughts, and trailed after Miranda and onto the dance floor.

The music thundered through her body as she and Miranda joined Kelly amidst a throng of men and women. Pulsing waves of lights fluttered across her vision as the iridescence shimmered around her. Warm bodies pressed up against her own as she entered into the crowd, which smelled of smoke, liquor, and lust. It was nostalgic; a memory from her past, and Shepard found herself relishing the familiarity of it. Masked men surrounded her. She felt, rather than saw, Kelly and Miranda dancing near her, and for the first time in a long time the commander forgot herself.

Shepard reached for the closest warm body, a slim man in what appeared to be a wolf mask, complete with grey tufts of fur and whiskers. She pressed her body close to his, moving seductively in time to the music, all the while indulging in the anonymity her own mask provided. He moved awkwardly however, a halting and strained manner that bothered her. In an effort to improve upon this, Shepard pulled him impossibly close, matching his rhythm to hers, but her attempts at ameliorating the situation failed.

Thankfully the song ended, flowing into another one, a faster more robust beat and Shepard disappeared into the crowd to find another warm body. This one was well muscled and wore a colorful bird mask with feathers. He glistened with moisture, dampening his tight fitting top. Shepard was intrigued and felt a sensuality bubble up inside her that she had thought was lost in the past. The commander attempted to dance and enjoy the song with such a prime human specimen, but kept bumping her head on his beak, and quickly decided to abandon the effort. Almost regretfully she made her way back to Miranda and Kelly, still with many admirers surrounding them, and joined in their fun.

During the next song Kelly caught Shepard's wrist and made a gesture pointing off to the side. Apparently, she was leaving the dance floor and joining a group of men at their table. Shepard frowned, but Miranda nodded in understanding and continued to move to the flow of the music. Shepard's gaze followed her through the crowd until she lost sight of the yeoman, a slight unease in her gut. Her attention was soon diverted, and even though Kelly had left, it seemed the group of men had not diminished. Shepard felt the heat of their bodies press into her and allowed the renewed assault on her senses.

It wasn't overwhelming, not at first. Shepard found that she was enjoying herself in the crowd and the attention she was receiving was somewhat intoxicating. It wasn't the adrenaline rush that she was accustomed to on the battlefield, but it was a rush all the same, and Shepard was going to take advantage of it while she could. However, the press of the bodies, and the rhythm of the music began to take its toll and the commander quickly realized that she was ready for a respite. She gestured to Miranda and they escaped from the dance floor.

"Something wrong, Commander?"

Shepard shook her head. "No, just thirsty."

"So nobody's bought you a drink yet?" Miranda inquired.

"Nobody's bought you one either."

Shepard examined the main floor of the club for a path through the crowd to the bar. Scantily clad servers and dancers were sprinkled throughout the crowds, an occasional oasis amidst a multitude of anonymous onlookers. Upon seeing an opening she grabbed Miranda's hand and pulled her along, but stopped short as she noticed Kelly.

"What?" Miranda halted just before plowing into Shepard.

The commander's face darkened as she pointed off to her left. "Kelly's dancing on the table."

"Bloody hell."

It looked like a scene from many a sleazy extranet vid. Kelly was on the table, dancing in her high heels and surrounded by a group of men who kept feeding her more drinks the higher her skirt went. Shepard felt her temper rise. The total stupidity of the situation was almost enough to send her crashing back to sobriety. Almost.

The commander let go of Miranda and stalked over to the table at which her yeoman danced, barely avoiding the ethereal servers on her way. She may be high, accidentally of course, but Shepard would not stand to see anyone on her crew make such spectacles of themselves, or risk their safety in such asinine ways. Kelly was even more naïve then Shepard had realized; either that or more drunk. Her level of sobriety, and intelligence at this point, was entirely debatable.

The commander strode up a short rise to the table and yanked the yeoman down, ignoring the surprised screech that emanated from her lips. Low grumbles arose from the surrounding male audience.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A muscled no-neck man in a bandit mask asked.

"Hey, what happened to the entertainment?" asked another.

Shepard shoved Kelly toward Miranda, charging her with Kelly's safety, and then turned to glare at the malcontent issuing forth from the sea of testosterone. "She's on my crew and I will not see her treated as such." _Oh my god, do I really sound like that?_

"Well I don't care whose crew she's on," stated the no-neck bandit. "I didn't pay for all those drinks just so some bimbo in a rubber suit could steal the entertainment."

Shepard felt the familiar cold calm settle over her body, rigid with ire from the derisive insult. She was now in full Commander Shepard mode, adrenaline pumping and itching for action. She flexed her hands in anticipation.

The no-neck bandit brushed past her and headed for Kelly. Miranda stepped in front of her in a defensive stance, her hand hovering near her side arm. Just as No-neck reached for Kelly, he stopped short, the muzzle of Shepard's hand canon pressing against his temple.

The music seemed to pulse violently in the background, but Shepard tuned in out. She had counted seven men surrounding the table, eight including No-neck. Easy prey if she decided to have a bit of fun. The commander fingered the trigger, contemplating her next move. No-neck had frozen in his movements, his arm still extended toward Kelly. Miranda smirked at him as she undid the latch on her holster. Kelly stood behind her in the space that had quickly formed around them, a combination of surprise and fright behind her mask.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Now just wait a minute." A man in the group, number four in Shepard's count, stood up slowly, raising his hands to show he was unarmed. "There's no need for this. Just put down the gun."

The commander flicked her eyes toward Miranda who nodded subtly. Shepard pressed her gun into No-neck's head slightly and glanced at the man, also wearing a simple black bandit mask. She shot him a questioning look, and then realized he couldn't see it because of her own mask. "These lechers belong to you?" _Oh hell, I _do_ sound like that!_

Number four nodded slowly, attempting to appear nonthreatening. "Yes. You could say that."

Shepard eyed him for a long moment. This was the same group of men that she had suspected of Alliance ties at the beginning of the night. If these men _were_ trained marines, the commander would need to step carefully. Shepard scanned the group again, attempting to pick out rank and training, a tangle of theories and strategy filling her mind. She guessed No-Neck was a grunt, most likely, and Number four was the ranking officer. He looked at her expectantly.

"Alright."

The commander's blood was still boiling from the combination of adrenaline and liquor, but managed to pull her gun from No-neck's head, still careful to maintain her defensive posture. No-neck turned from Kelly to look Shepard over and snorted derisively.

"So you gonna get up there and dance for us, Honey?"

Shepard met his eyes with her own steely gaze, her body on fire and hands itching. _Oh fuck it_. She holstered her gun and noted with satisfaction the brief look of surprise on his face when she launched her right hook. Shepard relished the feel of a solid impact as his head was knocked back and quickly followed up with a left cross. No-neck stumbled backwards, and the commander stalked him, leading with a powerful punch to his gut. The grunt groaned audibly as he doubled over, and Shepard ended the fight with a bony elbow to the spine. He sprawled face down on the floor and the commander placed a booted foot on his head. She looked back at the group of men, wary of a counterattack. A few had stood up, ready to back up their comrade, but Number four had stood in their way, preventing any additional involvement.

She gave the group another long look, then focused her attention back on No-neck, slightly increasing the pressure on his masked head. "How'd you like that dance? Honey."

A muffled groan was his only response and Shepard stepped away, dragging Kelly along with her. Miranda trailed slightly behind, bringing up the rear, her hand still hovering over her side arm. They weaved through the crowd as Kelly babbled apologies, her mask spewing forth a colorful cascade of bubbles along the way.

Shepard stormed up the grand staircase and into their booth, downing the first glass of liquid she could get her hands on. Dr. Chakwas and Tali looked up from their conversation and regarded her curiously. The commander shook her head in irritation and reached for another glass. Kelly sat off to the side, studying her hands with intense concentration, and Miranda sunk into the couch by the doctor.

Shepard set the glass down and glanced at Kelly. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came forth. Instead, Shepard just shook her head again and paced to and fro, her mind still fuzzy from the medication, her adrenaline still pumping from the fight. She found herself wanting more action, more activity to quell the raging inferno in her blood. The fight had been entirely too short. Tali and Dr. Chakwas looked to Miranda who made a dismissive gesture. She would tell them later what had transpired.

The Asari server appeared from the shadows, her tray filled with drinks, which she deftly set down on their table.

"We didn't order these," stated Shepard.

The server nodded and pointed toward the staircase. "The gentleman over there did."

Miranda followed Shepard's gaze. "What's he doing just waiting on the stairs?"

"He doesn't have a VIP pass and is therefore not allowed on to the second floor." Glasses clinked softly as the server cleared the table.

Of all the things that could have gone wrong tonight, why did she have to get into a bar fight? It was so cliché. Shepard sighed in irritation as she looked toward the stairs. While it was entirely possible that she had won the bet, the man who had bought their drinks and was waiting patiently on the staircase was none other than Number four.

_Oh shit_. Shepard waved off the confused looks from Dr. Chakwas and Kelly, and shook her head at Miranda who lounged comfortably, a tantalizing smirk on her face. What the hell was he doing here? Shepard put on her commander's hat and went to find out.

"You've got a lot of nerve." Shepard crossed her arms and looked down at him expectantly. He was standing there stupidly, with a half smile on his face.

"I just wanted to apologize for my guys. They can get a bit rowdy at times."

Shepard continued to glare, anger and restlessness flooding her veins.

He shifted uncomfortably. "I would've stopped it sooner, the dancing I mean. I thought she was an entertainer for the bar." Shepard huffed irritably but still said nothing. He shifted again under the heat of her gaze. "I had some of the guys take Berger - that big guy who's ass you kicked – they took him back to the room. He won't be a problem anymore, although he'll be hell to deal with tomorrow."

"Not my problem."

He frowned under his bandit mask. "Look, I came here to apologize." He took a deep breath and shifted on the stairs yet again. "I'll get out of your hair, but if there's anything I can do to make it up to you and yours, well, you know where to find me."

Shepard watched him go back down the stairs and weave through the crowd in the general direction she had come from minutes before. She bit her lip in thought, processing the events that had just occurred and found herself formulating a plan. Perhaps this night wouldn't be a total loss after all.


	7. Titillation

Disclaimer: Bioware owns pretty much everything.

A/N: While there is not as much humor in this chapter, I added something I thought was just as fun. Be warned, my Shepard is a naughty, naughty woman.

Chapter 7: Titillation

Shepard contemplated the night's events, the pulsating music diminishing slightly as she entered the dampening field surrounding their booth. Dr. Chakwas and Miranda greeted her with questioning looks, and the commander shrugged, reaching for one of the newly arrived drinks. She plopped down on the couch next to Miranda and felt all eyes on her. She sipped from her glass slowly, the smooth taste of bourbon sliding down her throat.

"A bar fight, Commander?"

Shepard regarded the doctor with what she hoped was a neutral face. "Well, he did call me a bimbo."

A snort escaped from Tali and she quickly ducked her head. Kelly was still sitting off to the side, contemplating her hands. Miranda nudged Shepard softly. "What did he want?"

Shepard swirled the glass gently, then took a large swallow. "He wanted to apologize. Apparently, he thought Kelly was one of the bar's dancers."

Another snort escaped from Tali. "What kind of idiot would make that mistake?"

The commander looked back to Kelly who seemed to be trying to avoid any and all attention at the moment. "I'm not sure. Kelly? You have any thoughts on that?"

"Well," the yeoman looked off to the dance floor, then back to her hands, her gaze anywhere but on Shepard. "I told them they could buy me drinks if they didn't want to tip me."

Of all the things that Shepard thought she might have said, this was not one of them. A groan escaped from Miranda's lips and the commander found herself laughing at the absurdity of it all.

"Really, Kelly," she laughed again. "Here I was worried for your safety, and you're busy scamming people."

The yeoman shrugged and looked innocently up at Shepard, another round of bubbles exploded from her mask. "I didn't want you to have to pay for all the drinks tonight."

"God-damn it woman, I can't take you anywhere." Shepard downed the rest of her bourbon and started pacing again. Her anger had dissipated, but the restlessness remained. She flexed her hands and reached for another drink. The commander needed to do something, anything to get rid of this feeling, but the owners would probably be unhappy if she turned the club into a shooting gallery.

"Kelly, just sit there for a bit and don't do anything stupid," said Miranda as she headed for the dance floor. "Come on, Commander. You're too worked up to be sitting on your ass."

Shepard finished the rest of her drink and followed Miranda back on to the dance floor. Once more she was enveloped by the crowd, the thickness of body heat, and the heady scent of flesh. Shepard found herself once more moving to the music, the warmth of her earlier drinks coursing through her body. She felt someone brush against her and turned to see the slim man in the wolf mask. He gave her a toothy smile as he tried to dance with her. Shepard suddenly regretted her earlier attempt to improve his rhythm, but dismissed the thought as she focused on burning off her excess energies.

Miranda found Shepard as the song ended and pulled her deeper into the crowd. The commander nodded in thanks at her masked rescuer, who was quickly surrounded once more with admirers. Miranda shot her a brilliant smile and gestured to the right where a masked man was dancing. Shepard's eyes met his and she felt a hint of annoyance as she recognized Number four. He was dancing, surprisingly well, with an Asari and some of the men Shepard remembered from their table. She frowned slightly, and turned away from him, her attention on the crowd in front of her.

Shepard noticed a Turian dancing close to Miranda and sidled up next to him, once more moving her hips in time to the music. He twitched his mandibles in what Shepard hoped wasn't irritation, but followed her lead nonetheless.

A series of other songs followed, the bass pounding loudly in her ears, and Shepard became lost in the beat. She found herself dancing with any number of men and woman, always sure to keep Miranda in sight. It wasn't difficult, as Miranda was purposely doing the same.

The presence of an individual dancing behind her grabbed Shepard's attention, and she let her body respond to the rhythm of the music. Hands were on her hips, lightly, almost tentatively pulling her against an anonymous warm body. She could feel a firm muscular build, body taut beneath damp fabric. A small bead of sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades, but Shepard ignored how hot it actually was in the crowd, focusing instead on the sensuality this mysterious stranger seemed to exude.

Although her curiosity was piqued, the commander ignored the urge to face her partner, relishing the pleasure anonymity brought her. She had danced with numerous partners this night, and the excitement of mystery was intoxicating. Shepard had almost let her curiosity slide until she caught the look on Miranda's face, a mix of humor and surprise. The commander turned around and came face to face with her mystery man, Number four.

He shot her that now familiar half-smile and brushed her hair back from her face, feathery wisps tickling her neck.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear. "I just couldn't help myself." An electric jolt shot down Shepard's spine as his lips barely brushed her ears, the feeling of electricity warming her body and causing her blood to boil anew.

"Can't you do anything but apologize?" He smelled of leather and sweet bourbon and the delicious pressure of his hands on her hips increased as she leaned into him.

He smiled teasingly in return, once more running his hands through her hair, leaning down to be heard above the din. "I'm not sure you'll let me do anything else."

Shepard arched a slender eyebrow. _So he liked to tease? Well two can play at that game_. She deftly disengaged from his grasp and wove through the crowd to Miranda's side, throwing him a tantalizingly evil smile. Miranda shot her a surprised look of curiosity as Shepard pulled her close, molding their bodies together in rhythm. A few hoots of appreciation sounded from the group of admirers around them. As the commander glanced back at her previous dance partner, she could have sworn she heard a strangled cry escape his lips.

A trickle of laughter escaped her as Miranda recognized Shepard's intentions, and ground her hips against the other woman's earning yet more cries of approval. The commander, however, kept her eyes on the crowd, scanning for Number four. The game wouldn't be any fun if he didn't want to play.

Miranda continued to move with fluid grace against Shepard and nodded subtly to her right. Number four had been spotted dancing with a human entertainer, but his attention was solely on the two women. Making certain that his eyes were focused on her, Shepard turned on her heel and executed a series of movements learned from the dancers on Omega. Miranda followed suit, her hands wandering over areas of Shepard's body she never imagined they would outside of medical necessity.

An almost pained, desperate look of longing flickered across Number four's masked face. The human entertainer dancing with him abandoned her efforts at holding his attention, focusing her energies instead on another member of his group. Shepard found herself smiling in cruel delight, her restless energies still unabated however, and she willed him to meet her gaze as he disappeared into the crowd.

The commander glanced at Miranda who shook her head. She had also lost sight of him, and Shepard found herself growing slightly frustrated at this turn of events. Was she going to have to pull out her gun once more to regain his attention? She began to wonder if the idea had any merit.

The commander's brief foray into bar-fight strategies and tactics was cut short as a strong hand clasped hers. Shepard found herself being pulled by Number four into the crowd toward the back of the dance floor. She shot a look at Miranda who smiled knowingly in return. The game was afoot.

Number four was ungentle as he pulled her, barging through the sea of anonymous dancers until they reached the back wall. He pushed her roughly into a shadowed corner, an anomaly amidst the iridescent lighting that pulsated throughout the rest of the club. His hands were on her hips once more, his grasp firm as he pushed his body against hers. Excited blood pounded in her ears as she met his eyes, alight with a mix of impatience and lust. This was her game, however, and Shepard wasn't about to let someone else control it.

The commander hooked her foot about his ankle, her hand on his wrist, and in the blink of an eye his back was against the wall where she had been only a moment earlier. He grunted in surprise, her hand on his chest keeping him at arm's length. Shepard felt a moment's satisfaction before the restlessness in her body resurfaced. The heat in her blood had not diminished and Shepard smiled hungrily at her prey.

The music thundered around them as she frantically pressed her lips to his, abandoning all pretense of a calm, cool, and collected commander. Shepard felt his hands roaming across her body, pausing once again on her hips and pulling her impossibly close. His arousal was evident and Shepard writhed tantalizingly against him, eliciting a soft groan from his roaming lips. He ran his hand through her hair, his mouth tasting every inch of exposed flesh, his breath hot on her neck. She shuddered with delight, longing for an outlet for years' worth of repressed cravings. Shepard found it reminiscent of her youth and smiled almost wistfully. After all, she had been only a teenager when last she engaged in such public hormonal indulgence.

Number four's hands continued to roam, and after a series of blindingly fast movements, Shepard's back was once more against the wall. A throaty laugh escaped her lips as she wrapped a leg around his thigh, eliciting yet another low groan. They were tangled in each other, all hands, lips, and legs, secluded in precarious shadow among dancing lights. Her blood pounded in her ears as a deep and potent warmth saturated her body. Eyes flashed open as he moved against her, her body a morass of want and need.

An indecipherable utterance escaped from her lips as she pushed against him. Number four met her gaze questioningly, a hint of mirth in his eyes. She reached roughly for his arm, pulling him through the crowded dance floor, the need for escape and indulgence guiding her steps. Her muddled brain was attempting to work, furiously trying to recreate the club's floor plan, but something that Kelly had mentioned earlier popped into her head and Shepard made a bee-line for the stairs.

Shepard smiled when she entered the VIP area, her intended goal in sight – the enclosed booths used for private dances. The commander stalked across the balcony punching a combination into her omni-tool and waving off the dancer inside the booth. The scantily dressed Asari gave Shepard and Number four a knowing smile, but said nothing as she left, closing the door behind her.

An eerie orange glow lit the booth as Shepard used her omni-tool to jam the monitoring devices, effectively preventing any potential security threat. Number four had come up behind her, his hands once more on her body, lips tasting her flesh. She turned around to meet him, pushing him roughly down on the soft couch and resumed her work. Shepard was still in control of this game, but she would be damned if anyone was able to watch it on a security feed.

Number four shot her another half-smile, body taut with longing and lust. Shepard snapped off her omni-tool, returning the booth to its original garish purple lighting and briefly pondered the situation that she was now in. The man in front of her was a prime human specimen, well muscled and feisty from what she could tell. Shepard remembered their frenetic commingling earlier and the heat intensified in her blood. She felt the ache of her body for his and gave into her desires, so long held in check.

He pulled her down, his arousal even more evident as she sat atop him. His lips warred with hers and he tasted of salt and rich bourbon. A soft, guttural sound escaped from his throat as they rocked to and fro, each lost to their lust. His lips and hands were everywhere and Shepard found herself wishing that Miranda had chosen a more revealing outfit.

Once again he moved lightning fast, and Shepard realized that while she was still atop him, she was now facing away from him. The momentary realization was interrupted by the renewed assault of his kisses and roaming hands, one cupping her breast as the other applied pressure in an ever so delicate locale. Although she tried to suppress it, a slight moan escaped her lips, and she moved her body in response, relishing the pleasure she thought long forgotten.

Shepard lost all ability to think rationally, instead responding to the demands of her desire. Blood continued to pound in her ears as yearning drove her onward. She moved against her partner's body, encouraging him on. His body was firm under a damp top, muscles flexing in time to their rhythm until she could withstand it no longer.

The commander arched her back as she reached behind her, attempting to blindly to remove the fabric that was the barrier between Shepard and her goal. A throaty laugh escaped from Number four as he caught her hands and nipped teasingly at the nape of her neck. He held her there, in the awkward position, as his other hand snaked around her front, sliding effortlessly into her clothing.

Her sharp intake of breath was plainly audible, but Shepard cared not, as her attention was elsewhere at the moment. She felt him smile, his lips still pressed against the back of her neck, his breathing heavy and hot. The game had changed. He was teasing her, and she knew it, but her body responded nevertheless as hips pushed up to meet taunting fingers.

Another intake of breath as he plunged into her and Shepard moaned softly with pleasure, marveling in delight at his manual dexterity. Her hands, though, he still held behind her, forcing her to keep her back arched awkwardly. However, Shepard realized that his grip was loose, and she soon resumed her earlier attempt to rid him of his pants.

Another throaty chuckle, thick with desire as Shepard brushed against him. Again he caught her hands, and again he nipped teasingly at her neck. Shepard floundered in frustration, and then in pleasure as he plunged into her yet again. She was quickly losing control of the situation, and worse, she didn't seem to care. She moved her hips against him insistently, his member straining against a barrier of clothing. His breathing hitched and Shepard smiled to herself. Perhaps she didn't need her hands after all.

Another quick series of movements and Number four had Shepard pinned against the wall, his body blanketing her back and his free hand exploring her once more. She sighed breathily against the silken fabric lining the walls, smooth and sensuous against her face. Her body pulsated with yearning, the potent warmth growing infinitely more compelling. She could feel him behind her, his manhood almost cool against her hot skin, his hand probing her body, teasing every last delicious amount of anticipation from her. She shuddered involuntarily, shifting gently against him, a welcoming invitation.

He shifted slightly, moving to accommodate her, gently teasing her as before, his breath hot on her neck. It was different, though. There was an urgency in his movements that had not been there before, and Shepard could feel the heat off his body. She moved against his member yet again, and arched her back as a low guttural sound emanated from him.

She held her breath as he started to enter her, deliberate, and agonizingly slow. Shepard almost cried out in frustration when he stopped moving, his hands increasing the pressure on her hips infinitesimally. He was pausing, intentionally drawing out the actual act and driving Shepard wild. She felt him move behind her, impossibly slow, stepping slightly closer and breathing in her scent. Shepard could have melted from the heat between their bodies.

A soft cry escaped her lips as he jerked his hips and entered her fully. Mixed feelings of relief and pleasure filled her as he moved deep within her, hips rocking gently at first, then gradually increasing in pace. He held her against him, blissfully trapped between his body and the silk-lined wall. Shepard gave up all attempts at control and instead rode the intoxicating wave of pleasure.

She moaned against the wall in ecstasy, the pulsating rhythm of their desire building to a crescendo. His hand still pinned her wrists, while the other sought to increase her pleasure even further. Shepard could feel his head buried in her hair, his breath sending shivers down her spine. She gasped in surprise as her body succumbed to his ministrations, a burst of heat pervading her limbs.

He increased his tempo immediately, rough and demanding, but soon slowing as he too succumbed to his body's demands. They stood there, each molded to the other and welcoming the languor that overtook them; a moment's respite well deserved.

Shepard breathed heavily against the silken wall, her body spent from the night's activities. She almost cried aloud when he pulled away from her, the warmth of his body replaced by the chill of absence. She adjusted her pants, making sure everything was in place and as it should be. Number four was buckling his belt, the half-smile on his face overshadowing the awkwardness of the moment. Shepard suddenly felt very self-conscious, and given what had just transpired, decided to make a hasty exit out of the booth. She was gone before Number four even had a chance to do or say anything to stop her.


	8. Escape

Disclaimer: Bioware owns all.

A/N: No smut in this chapter, but some language. I like reviews! Let me know what you think.

Chapter 8: Escape

"You did what?"

The commander shot Miranda a hard look as she gestured to the other women in the booth. Dr. Chakwas and Tali were sprawled out on the couch, pointing and laughing drunkenly at the colorful bubbles that spewed for from Kelly's mask.

"I really don't need anyone finding out about this. It's bad enough I'm out in this getup." Shepard swirled the glass of bourbon in her hand, the brown liquid soothing her senses. "I should go."

Miranda shook her head. "The night's still young, Shepard. I don't think it will get any worse…or in your case, better."

"I got drunk. I got high. I got laid. I think I've met my quota for the evening."

Miranda snorted in response. "What about our bet?"

"What _about_ our bet?"

"Has anyone bought you a drink yet?" Miranda eyed the commander saucily.

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "You were here when that guy ordered us drinks to apologize on his men's behalf." She felt her face flush with warmth.

"He bought us all drinks, not just you." Miranda sat up even straighter. "While you were off cavorting with masked men, I had some guy in a bird mask get my drink." She took a sip of a purplish liquid. "So I win."

Shepard frowned as her mind worked, processing the night's events. "If you want to get technical, I won. You bought me that Liquid Satan right after the bet. We never stipulated whether or not it had to be from the opposite sex."

Miranda tapped her finger against her lips in thought, then sighed in resignation. "Son of a bitch. You're right."

Shepard tossed back her drink, the smooth bourbon sliding down her throat. "I really need to leave. I can't afford to be here if _he_ shows up." The commander stood, readjusting her mask and clothing for a more comfortable fit.

"It was that bad?"

The commander shook her head and smiled knowingly. "No, it was that good."

Shepard set her drink down decidedly, but cringed as Tali and Dr. Chakwas noticed her; so much for her exit going unnoticed.

"Leaving already, Commander?" Dr. Chakwas' speech was heavily slurred and she struggled to get up from her lounging position.

"Stay and drink some more with us, Shepard!" Tali giggled and pointed at the bubbles erupting from Kelly's mask again. She attempted to sit up straight, but only made it partway, propped up haphazardly on her elbow.

Shepard looked pointedly at Tali. "I think you've have more than enough to drink."

Tali wave a drunken hand in dismissal, mumbling and then giggling inanely. "What makes you so sure?"

"You can't even sit up!" The commander crossed her arms and pursed her lips, looking every bit the angry mother hen.

An electronic belch issued forth from Tali's speaker, and after pausing briefly, she burst into a hiccoughing fit of laughter. Kelly frowned at her, bubbles floating about her head, and Dr. Chakwas attempted to examine her eyes through the opaque mask. Shepard rubbed her temples in exasperation, Miranda wearing her usual smirk.

"Come on," Shepard ordered, pulling Tali to her feet. Miranda assisted, moving to Tali's other side for additional support. "Kelly, help Doc."

Dr. Chakwas waved the Yeoman off, but changed her mind as she wobbled dangerously upon standing. The group of women exited the booth, moving awkwardly to avoid the other patrons, Dr. Chakwas and Tali leaning for support on the arms of their compatriots. Shepard could feel the irritation growing as her inebriation wore off, and moved as fast through the bar as she dared, Tali stumbling and giggling along the way. Anonymity was still her friend, but she wasn't about to take any chances and kept to the shadows as best she was able, making their progress that much slower.

The commander grinned as she saw an exit, an escape route off to her right, and relief flooded her veins as she would be able to leave this bizarre night behind her. However, as she directed the group toward their destination, a firm hand grasped her free wrist, and Shepard groaned inwardly. Her horrid luck would have it be the one person she wanted to avoid at all costs, and guessing correctly, Shepard turned to face the man she knew as Number four.

Now that her attention was on him he shifted awkwardly, the half-smile gone from his face. Any trace of desire that she felt for him earlier was now replaced with embarrassment coupled with the need to flee.

"Bosh'tet!" Tali cried, followed by a series of garbled electronic mumblings. She tilted her head awkwardly on Shepard's shoulder trying to face the man who was now preventing her forward momentum. "I can't dance for you right now, just so you know."

A flicker of amusement crossed his face, and Kelly attempted to hide behind Dr. Chakwas' struggling form. Shepard looked at him expectantly.

"I, uh…" Number four looked at the five women, each with varying degrees of humor and curiosity on their faces. Shepard shifted Tali's weight as he stuttered, contemplating what to say next. Regaining some semblance of sense, he stepped forward and gestured toward Tali, strung between the shoulders of Miranda and Shepard. "Do you need some help?"

The commander shifted Tali's weight again, her helmeted head bobbing with the effort. "No. We've got this. I just need to get them back to the ship."

"I can escort you."

Shepard shook her head. The last thing she wanted from this man was chivalry. "You don't have security clearance. Sorry." She added the last bit involuntarily, regret and residual alcohol loosening her tongue.

"But –"

Shepard waved him off. "I need to attend to my crew." She looked over Tali's head to Miranda. "Can you take care of him?"

"I don't know what you want me to do." The smirk of her face was infuriating and Shepard snorted in response.

"I'm sure you'll think of something." The commander hefted Tali once again, and resumed their trek toward to exit leaving Miranda to cover their rear. Shepard took one last uncomfortable look behind her where Miranda appeared to be berating or possibly conspiring with Number four. He met her glance, an indiscernible look on his face. Shepard felt a stirring in her gut, whether from irritation or anticipation was difficult to tell.

O o O o O o O

"Remind me never to drink that much again." Yeoman Chambers was bent over her station, head on the cool metal paneling. She grumbled something unintelligible and pointed to Shepard's personal terminal. "You have unread messages, Commander."

Shepard briefly scanned a data pad, nodded, and handed it back to crewman Hawkins. She looked down at Kelly, the young woman suffering from the ill effects of detox. The commander shook her head in remembrance of the night's events. There were reasons why she didn't go to dance clubs anymore, and last night had reiterated her suppositions.

"Chambers, do you need to be relieved?" Shepard punched in a sequence of numbers on her terminal, her attention still partially on the woman beside her.

Kelly groaned pathetically. "I'll be okay, Commander. I just need stand here for a bit." She slid her head over the metal plating. "So cool," she sighed.

Shepard tried to ignore her hung-over Yeoman and focused instead on her messages. Scrolling down the list she noticed little of significant import; a tidbit about Batarian raiders in the Terminus systems, weather patterns on Haglaz, and a news vid about a shoot-out on the Citadel. Shepard scrolled down further and her face darkened as she examined the last message.

_Of all the god-damn luck. _

The commander huffed in frustration as she rode the elevator down to the crew deck, heading straight away for Miranda's office. Surely the woman with all her contacts would have seen this coming and prepared for it. Shepard hated to be put in a bind, her metaphorical dick pissing against the wind. They were going to have words.

Shepard barged in, averting her eyes as Miranda pulled up her pants, readying herself for the day.

"What, you don't knock anymore?"

"Can it, Miranda. How long have you known the Alliance was on Ilium?"

Miranda popped a couple of pills and downed a glass of water. "I've known the Alliance has had agents in the Terminus for some time. That's no secret. Why, did they finally contact you?"

The commander began pacing in frustration. "You knew?"

"Not with any certainty."

Shepard frowned and eyed Miranda sharply. "Do you know who they're sending?"

"I have my suspicions, but nothing solid. Who contacted you?"

"Staff Commander Alenko." Shepard practically spat the name, disgusted with him and with herself. "This is not the kind of bullshit I need today."

Miranda gestured to her couch, but Shepard waved her off as she resumed pacing. The first officer leaned against her desk and focused her attention on her fingernails as if they were extraordinarily interesting. She would just need to wait. Shepard's temper would boil over momentarily.

The commander continued to pace, mulling over the possible outcomes of the upcoming meeting. When the Alliance informed her that they would have an agent contact her, she had foolishly assumed that it would via holographic imagery, as with Illusive Man. A face to face meeting in the Terminus, especially with the hostile attitude toward organized government, was ludicrous and unnecessary.

Miranda glanced over at Shepard. She had stopped pacing and was instead gazing out the window. Taking this as a sign that her temper had waned, Miranda cautiously approached her. "So what did the message say?"

"What, you didn't have a chance to go through my mail yet?"

She shook her head. "Not yet, no."

Shepard eased onto the couch, careful of her now throbbing head. The three Herculean glasses of water that she downed this morning had minimized her dehydration, but the painful symptoms from her wild night out remained. She started to wonder about purposely taking Joker's pain meds, but quickly dismissed the thought. Although meeting Kaiden on pain meds might help things to go better than they did the last time they saw one another.

The statements he made and the accusatory tone he used still made her blood boil. Very rarely had she ever restrained from back-handing someone, as it could be a fun perk of her job, but Shepard had refrained from causing Kaiden bodily injury. And then he _messaged_ an apology? Shepard groaned inwardly as a myriad of unpleasant scenarios swept through her mind's eye.

"Commander?" Miranda asked tentatively.

Shepard's attention was jerked back into the present. "EDI, have the repairs to the briefing room been completed yet."

Synthesized tones filled the air. "Yes, Commander. The repairs were completed yesterday at eighteen hundred six hours. The quantum entanglement based communications array has been removed, as well two video surveillance feeds per your order."

"Thank you, EDI. Miranda, I trust you to arrange the meeting. I'm not going anywhere on this planet with an Alliance rep, especially _that_ one."

Miranda gave her an understanding smile and turned on her terminal. "Of course, Commander. Any specific instructions you would like me to pass on?"

"You think it would be too much to ask….no. There aren't any chairs in the briefing room, correct?" Miranda simply nodded. "Good. The more uncomfortable he is, the shorter the meeting."

"As you say, Commander."

* * *

A/N: Yes, I went there. This didn't start out as a reunion piece, it just kind of went there. Besides, I couldn't think of a more awkward situation to put Shepard in considering what happened in the previous chapter.


	9. Meetings

Disclaimer: Bioware owns all.

A/N: My muse disappeared and I struggled with this chapter. I hope I did it justice. As always, please feel free to post your thoughts.

Chapter 9: Meetings

Shepard stalked out of Miranda's office and headed straight to the coffee maker. Miranda knew more than she was letting on, as was usual, but the commander was in no mood today for any more surprises. She sipped on the coffee imitation, contemplating the information at her disposal and processing the likely theories for an Alliance presence in the Terminus; observation, infiltration, and recon in all likelihood. It would be at least a bit interesting to see what absurd cover story they had cooked up for this meeting.

The commander tossed her cup in the waste bin on her way to the med bay. The door hissed open and a miserable Dr. Chakwas raised her head from her hands. A pained look crossed her face as she regarded Shepard.

"You all right, Doc?"

Chakwas shot her a weak smile. "I'll be fine. I just haven't indulged that much in a while, not since you and I split that bottle of brandy."

"Don't you have anything to dampen the pain?" Shepard rifled through the medicine cabinets and the doctor tossed her a bottle. The commander looked suspiciously at Dr. Chakwas and examined it. The label had been torn off.

"It's good old-fashion acetaminophen. Nothing nearly as fancy what you took last night."

Shepard snorted in response and popped two pills in her mouth. "Aren't you going to take some?"

Dr. Chakwas shook her head, and then quickly regretted it. "I already did. I like my liver, Commander. I don't want to damage it anymore than I already have."

Shepard excused herself, and the doctor returned to contemplating her misery. She was intent on avoiding the crew as much as possible, made difficult by her command status. Shepard was bombarded by progress reports and various quips about the previous night's outfit, the latter mostly from Joker. The commander ignored as much as she could, but felt her ire rise. She briefly contemplated throwing Joker into the escape pod again.

Upon returning to the CIC, Shepard scanned her messages once more. Miranda had worked fast.

_Commander,_

_The meeting is scheduled for sixteen hundred hours in the debriefing room. Commander Alenko will be accompanied by Lt. Johnson. I will join you forthwith._

_Miranda_

Shepard smiled despite her pounding head and the growing anticipation in her gut. The potential for disaster was alarming. Thankfully, she wouldn't be alone at this meeting.

"Kelly, are you –" The commander glanced over at her Yeoman, the question falling from her lips. Kelly was slouched over her station, snoring softly on the metal plating.

"Yeoman Chambers." Shepard's voice was stern, commanding an air of attention. Kelly stirred and looked up from her rest, a look of surprise crossing her face as she realized her error.

"Sorry, Commander," she sputtered, wiping the sleep from her eyes an attempting to regain her composure.

Shepard shook her head in mild annoyance. "Take the day off and recover. You're no use to me half dead."

Kelly nodded slowly, regrettably making her way toward the elevator. Shepard keyed off her station, the lights flickering briefly and then going black. She would have to review ship procedures on her own now, and possibly make up a few along the way.

O o O o O o O

How word had spread throughout the Normandy about the upcoming meeting, Shepard would never know. She briefly entertained implementing stricter security measures to control the scuttlebutt, but quickly dismissed the idea. As much as the crew had been through, they were allowed to gossip so long as it didn't interfere with their duties. And they performed their duties admirably.

The commander leaned against the table in the briefing room, scanning the information packet before her. While she attempted to focus her mind on work, it kept drifting off in other directions. A hiss from the door drew her from her wanderings.

"Shouldn't you be armed?" Garrus strode in nonchalantly, his mandibles twitching with humor.

Shepard patted her right hip. "You should know by now that I'm always packing, Garrus."

"I was thinking about your Widow, although that might be too obvious."

Shepard snorted in response. "What's on your mind?"

He crossed the room and joined her against the table, looking off aimlessly as he pondered how to form his next question. Shepard waited in comfortable silence. She had been with Garrus for a long time now, as far as military operations go, and was comfortable with his input. He would have even made a great Chief Operations Officer if Miranda hadn't proven to be so useful.

"How is this going to work, Commander, collaborating with Alliance officials? Look at what happened the last time we worked with them."

Shepard nodded in response, her mind working to block out the memories of her "death." She had pondered this question herself. In some ways, the Alliance was very similar to Cerberus, both working toward the advancement of humanity in the galaxy; both with equal amounts of zest and ruthlessness. At least with Cerberus Shepard knew they were likely to betray her. With the Alliance, however, she didn't expect to be abandoned, floating off into space like a fart in the wind, and then her actions covered up with some lame excuse.

"And then there's Alenko." Garrus held his tongue momentarily, mulling over his thoughts. "You really should bring a bigger gun."

Shepard smiled in response. "I've got Miranda with me. Her tongue packs more of a punch than any gun."

His mandibles twitched again. "I'm not sure how to respond to that, Commander."

The commander cuffed him playfully on his shoulder as the comm. system beeped. EDI's round avatar blinked into existence at the far end of the table. "Alliance officials Staff Commander Alenko and Lt. J.G. Johnson have arrived, Commander. They are requesting permission to board."

"You want me to hide under the table and take pot shots at 'em?"

"Tempting, but I think that might cause a diplomatic incident," Shepard snickered as she shoved him gently out of the room. "I'll brief you later. Go do something productive."

Garrus nodded in acquiescence and Shepard switched off her data pad. "EDI, have our Alliance contacts been cleared by security?"

"Yes, Commander. They meet the specified requirements."

"And where is Miranda?" Shepard began to pace restlessly.

"Operative Lawson is waiting at the airlock entrance for you approval."

Shepard took a deep breath to calm her mind, a tangle of worry and frustration built up over the past few months. "Permission granted. Have Miranda escort them to the briefing room."

Shepard continued her pacing, processing thoughts and replaying scenarios repeatedly in her head. She had very little idea of what to expect from this meeting. An earlier message from Admiral Hackett upon their arrival at Illium had only indicated that an agent would be in contact. There had been no more information forthcoming, and Shepard had stupidly dismissed her concerns. She had thought her luck couldn't possibly be _that_ bad. She was wrong.

Another hiss from the door and Miranda sauntered through, followed by two men in civilian dress. Shepard's breathing hitched. She had never seen Kaiden in civvies before and it was a disturbingly delightful sight. The commander regained her senses, however, and leaned casually against the back wall, observing both men.

His lieutenant was a young man of slim build with an angular face. Dressed in his civvies, he looked more the part of a sexually confused teenager than an officer. Shepard smiled inwardly at the thought, doing her best to avoid eye contact with her own former lieutenant.

Miranda cleared her throat and gestured to the men. "Commander, this is Lieutenant John G. Johnson and you already know Staff Commander Alenko. Both are here on behalf of the Systems Alliance."

_Wait, his name's John Johnson? _Shepard bit her tongue and silencing the multitude of comments she could have made.

"Gentlemen, this is Commander Shepard, formerly of Cerberus, formerly of the Alliance. I am Miranda Lawson, her second in command."

Both men nodded in greeting, Alenko looking curiously at Shepard.

"What is it that the Alliance wants from us, exactly, that they sent you all the way out to the Terminus?" Shepard bit back a sharp comment, choosing instead to get directly to the point.

"I'm sure you're aware that we've had agents in the Terminus systems for some time." Alenko glanced at Miranda pointedly, but her face was stone. "I was tasked with contacting your team regarding progress made on your investigation into the disappearance of human colonies."

'_Contacting your team'? Good, let's keep it impersonal_. "And you just happened to be on Illium?"

Commander Alenko nodded. "My team was stationed here because of my previous contact with Liara, although she has since disappeared off the grid." He shot her another curious look.

"The situation with the Collectors has been resolved." The commander said curtly.

"And your contact with Cerberus?"

"Problematic," Miranda answered.

"You already know we came back through the Omega 4 relay." Shepard interrupted. "What do you want?"

Commander Alenko gestured to his lieutenant who handed a data pad to Miranda. She scanned it briefly before passing it to Shepard.

"Those are the terms of your reinstatement into the Systems Alliance military," stated Johnson.

Shepard scrolled down through the data, annoyed laughter bubbling up inside her. "You've got to be kidding me. The Corsair program?"

"Yes, Commander." The lieutenant nodded uncomfortably. "If you choose to accept these terms, Admiral Hackett requests that you put in at Arcturus Station for needed repairs and crew reassignment."

Shepard shook her head and tossed the data pad onto the table, the loud rattle sharp amidst the silence. "No. I keep the crew I have."

"But Commander – " Shepard cut off the lieutenant's protest with a wave.

"This crew knows this ship inside and out. Their performance thus far has been exemplary. I will not cast them aside after what they've accomplished. The admiral accepts my crew as is, or not at all."

A ghost of a smile crossed Commander Alenko's face. "He thought you might say that."

Shepard met his eyes reluctantly. "What's his contingency plan?"

Alenko retrieved the discarded data pad, punched up a list of names, and handed it back to the other commander. "This is a secondary option."

Shepard reviewed the new data, then handed it off to Miranda, the irritation plain on her face. "You want to supplement my crew with your own people?"

Miranda tapped her fingers against her lips in thought. "We have a full compliment already on board, Commander Alenko. Unless they want to bunk in the cargo hold, we don't have room for more."

"The Corsair program requires that Alliance officers are on board…Captain Shepard."

Shepard started at that last bit, a flicker of surprise upon a usually unreadable face. "The Alliance is promoting me?"

Lieutenant Johnson shook his head, shifting nervously under Shepard's gaze. "You would remain the Normandy's CO with all a captain's privileges, but officially, you would not be part of the Alliance."

"Plausible deniability," Shepard said flatly.

"But you'd have an Alliance XO on your staff," Miranda interjected helpfully.

Shepard snorted. "What idiot got that job?"

"I did." Alenko's face split into a half-smile.


	10. Full Circle

Disclaimer: Bioware owns all.

Chapter 10: Full Circle

_Son of a bitch!_

Shepard's mind reeled at the news. Although Alenko was indeed the best fit given his military achievements and previous involvement in the hunt for Saren, the personal implications of his assignment to the Normandy was aggravating. No wonder why fraternization regs were put in place.

The commander shelved her personal feelings and faced the two men who waited patiently across the table from her. "I'll need to discuss this with my officers. I'll contact you in twenty-four standard hours to inform you of my decision."

"As you say, Commander." Alenko's voice was even, but his eyes were questioning.

"Miranda, show them out, then get back in here."

"Yes, Commander."

The three moved toward the door, but Alenko hesitated, motioning his lieutenant to follow Miranda out the door. "I'll be out in a minute." He turned to Shepard. "Can we talk in private?"

Shepard nodded to Miranda and turned her steely gaze on him, shoving down the feelings of apprehension that suddenly threatened to overwhelm her. "What?"

He shuffled his feet nervously. "I just wanted to apologize, Shepard, for what I said to you on Horizon."

She made a dismissive gesture, her eyes hard. "You always said you leave a way out, Kaiden. Well, there it is," she said pointing to the door.

Alenko crossed the short distance to her, his hands firm on her arms. "Shepard I –"

His protest was cut short as his head jerked to the side, Shepard's infamous right hook making contact. He released his grip on her, surprise flooding his face as he rubbed his jaw. She had no words for him, nothing that could describe the mix of frustration, disgust, longing, and emptiness that his mere presence seemed to elicit. Instead, Shepard met his gaze with hard steel, eyes blazing in righteous fury.

There was no need to point him to the door again. Alenko shot her one last look filled with sorrow as he made his way out, still rubbing his jaw absent-mindedly.

Shepard had restrained herself, withholding the brunt of her anger. There was no need to send the man to the infirmary, at least not yet. Her anger was best used against the Reapers, and she would save it up as long as necessary. No diversions this time around.

"EDI," the blue avatar appeared at the end of the table, "inform Garrus and Jacob that they're needed in the briefing room."

"Of course, Commander." A flicker of blue accompanied her assent. "They are en route."

Shepard began pacing restlessly again, shaking the ache from her right hand. The Corsairs? The program had merit, and she would be allowed to run her ship as she saw fit. The Alliance crew, however, could be problematic. The commander was processing these thoughts when the door hissed open and Miranda, Jacob, and then Garrus joined her as ordered. Shepard gave them the rundown of the meeting.

"Thoughts?" She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, her gaze on the officers in front of her.

"You know what I think, Commander," Garrus stated. "Look what happened the last time we worked with them."

Shepard nodded in acknowledgement, but said nothing.

"I don't like it, but we need them. We need organizational backing in order to keep this bird afloat. I don't want to spend the majority of my time scanning for minerals again, Commander." Miranda met the commander's gaze. "Your personal feelings aside, Shepard, if we must have Alliance crew on board then Commander Alenko is the best fit for the mission."

The commander kept her face blank, but looked to Jacob who was frowning thoughtfully. "Jacob, you have a history with the Corsairs. What's your input?"

"I agree with Miranda, we need their support, but it's still bullshit, Commander. There's still going to be a mess of red tape that will make our task even more difficult."

"What about the Council?" Garrus perked up. "You're still a Spectre. Don't you get paid for it?"

Shepard shook her head. "I may hold the title, but they're still denying the Reapers even exist. They'd never fund something like this. Plus we're still considered part of Cerberus, an enemy of the Council."

"So our two options are to collaborate with the Alliance or go it alone." The words fell from Miranda's lips softly and an uncomfortable silence descended over the room. Shepard's mind raced, calculating all possible scenarios, her eyes focused on an invisible spot on the table. Garrus' mandibles twitched softly while Miranda and Jacob shuffled and fidgeted. They knew better than to interrupt the commander while she was deep in thought.

"The mission is what's important." Shepard's voice cut into the silence like a knife. "We need to have the funds to boot the Reapers in the ass, and scraping for credits puts the mission at risk."

"Orders, Commander?"

She stood straight now, her body poised and ready for action now that she had made her decision. "We contact Commander Alenko and his team in twenty-four hours – make 'em sweat a little bit."

"Yes Commander."

"Miranda, I want you to research the list of names that Alenko gave us. Get me all the information you can find on them. If they like pistols or rifles, if they like show tunes, which hand they use to piss – I want to know it all. Garrus –" Shepard barked.

The Turian straightened, a reflex of military training, and focused his attention on the commander. "Ready for orders."

"Garrus I need you to review and revamp security systems. If we're going to have strangers on board my ship, I'm not letting them get their grubby little hands on anything. No access to tech of any kind, understood?"

"Understood Commander."

"Jacob," Shepard was pacing now, her mind working furiously. "I want any data you have on the procedures and policies related to the Corsairs. Get me intel on that red tape you keep talking about, I don't want it getting in the way of our mission."

Jacob saluted. "Yes ma'am."

"I want all this done in the next twenty-four hours before I contact Alenko. Miranda, you have permission to contact Liara if you need to. Garrus, get with Tali, Legion, and EDI – they can compute anything you throw at them. Jacob, I want your report on my desk by ten hundred hours tomorrow morning." She stopped pacing suddenly and met the eyes of her crew, excitement in their stance. "Questions?"

"No, Commander."

"Good. Dismissed."

O o O o O o O

Shepard flicked off the data pad, set it down on her desk and stretched in her chair. Jacob had written up a thorough report and she had been engrossed in it and researching the details for nearly three hours.

"EDI, dim the lights to fifteen percent illumination."

The lights in Shepard's quarters flickered softly, and then all but went out. The soft glow of the enormous fish tank bathed the room in azure iridescence. The commander sighed, taking a moment to relax before duty called her back to work.

The moment was cut short as the door chime sounded.

"Enter."

Miranda sauntered in, a sly smile on her face and a package in her arms. "I figured you'd have your nose to the grindstone. How about a break?"

Shepard raised a slender eyebrow. "The last break I took with you ended with Kelly puking on my new boots."

Laughter, like soft chimes trickled from Miranda's mouth as she continued into the commander's living quarters. She pulled a bottle of bourbon from the package and poured two glasses, offering one to Shepard.

"Now we're drinking in the middle of the day?"

"You've been at this all morning, Commander. You don't get to wear yourself out."

Shepard nodded in acquiescence and joined her second on the black couch. She swirled the caramel liquid and sipped, a familiar smooth burn sliding down the back of her throat.

"From my private reserve," Miranda said, setting the bottle on the table.

"Now I have a reason to raid your office." Shepard smiled tiredly and set her glass down. "I know you're not here just to check up on me."

Miranda nodded and handed the commander a data pad. "These are the results of my investigation. Liara is still gathering more intel and will forward it to you on your private channel."

Shepard briefly scanned the information, marking bits of interest for further study. She paused in her examination as Miranda reached into the package again, and brought out a tray of food. Shepard smiled in delight as the familiar smell of grilled steak wafted into her nostrils.

"My apology, Commander," she said, setting the plate in front of Shepard. "You got more than you bargained for the past few days."

Shepard nodded as Miranda stood up to leave. "You're not staying?"

She shook her head and climbed up the stairs, the door hissing open as she neared it.

"You knew all along what would happen, didn't you?" The commander looked up from her meal, attempting to read the other woman through sheer will.

Miranda shot her a small smile in response. "Enjoy your steak, Commander."

* * *

A/N: I apologize as this story was all over the place, but as it so happens, it turned into a jumping off point for another story that's brewing in my head. Thank you all so much for reading, and for all the reviews. As always, any input for this chapter, or future stories, is very welcome!


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